Did I hurt someone today? Did I inspire someone today? People gather, organise and catalog compliments and insults as if they are a butterfly collection. Lay them out on the white board of their imaginations, so they can fill the emptiness of their days with righteous indignation.
What good what that do? Why should our definition of ourselves be a slave to fleeting impressions of passing strangers who barely know their own souls? Why should we be defined by a momentary mood?
Especially when other peoples opinions (much like our own) is more often than not no more than a reflection of how they feel and think about themselves. Why do we lay so much on other peoples opinions? Get consumed by the monster of our own projection?
Whevever i pollute a relationship with my projections, I harvest a fresh crop illusion to drown my misery. We are all equally frail. Our flaws are not a problem to be picked apart hair by hair, they are here today, gone tomorrow.We don't need a healthy excuse to cry, we can cry anytime we want to.
Rage is an easy excuse. It is a clueless attention. Taking a breath and rejoice the opportunity to peek out of the window to our own sanity. We should not take such glances so lightly and give so much credence to the monster of self-doubt? Especially we have only so many finite breaths left to heave?
"Best you stop your ears.
My tongue will tell the anger of my heart,
or else my heart concealing it will break" T
he Taming of the Shrew (Act IV, Scene III)
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